


You Don't Belong Here Either

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Series: Jack Harkness Walks into a Bar... [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Crossover Pairings, Hotel Sex, M/M, Past Drug Use, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Harkness and Sherlock Holmes meet in a bar. It doesn't quite go as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Belong Here Either

**Author's Note:**

> I'm picturing this as taking place after Sherlock's doing the detective work but before he meets John.

Jack sipped his drink, watching the bar. He didn’t often come to London, but sometimes the job demanded it. And that dark haired young man didn’t belong here. Not in this sort of bar anyway. Oh he was fitting in well. He would fool anyone else. But Jack Harkness had been around the block enough to spot a phony. He got a second pint and made his way over, sliding smoothly in next to the man. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he smiled, setting down the pint.

The stranger narrowed his eyes and looked at Jack, seeming to take in every detail. “You’re Torchwood.”

Jack leaned back, smile never slipping, even as he crossed his arms. “Well. You seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

He scoffed. “I have everyone at a disadvantage.”

Leaning forward again, Jack met his eyes. “You don’t belong in here. You came looking for someone.”

“Well then, ‘Captain’, that makes two of us.” His voice was deep, clearly used to manipulating people to get what he wanted. Maybe a latent psychic talent no one would know about for a few hundred years.

“Is the guy you’re looking for here?” Jack’s tongue slid along his lips.

Rolling his eyes, the man made to stand. “No. And I have no interest in anything you might have to offer.”

“Can I get a name, at least?” Jack watched him, intrigued.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He was gone in a swirl of coat. Jack chuckled. He knew that trick too. Well, he might be back. And Jack could be patient.

**

It was near closing time when Sherlock came back into the bar. Jack was still in the booth where he’d left him. Carefully the man made his way over and sat across from Jack. “Any luck with the hunting?” Jack asked.

“I got some of what I needed, yes.” Sherlock was watching him, clearly much more relaxed then earlier. Jack wondered if he’d taken something or if it was just that he’d accomplished what he needed to.

“So, plans for the rest of the night?” Jack smiled easily.

“Oh, I thought perhaps you had some, Captain.” Sherlock practically purred, moving close to Jack.

Jack wondered again if he’d taken something. He wouldn’t sleep with someone high. Reaching out he cupped Sherlock’s cheek and studied his face.

“I’m perfectly sober,” said Sherlock. “Just kept thinking about coming back and seeing if you were still here. You do know the effect you have on people.” he leaned in and sniffed Jack’s collar. “You smell good.”

Tangling his fingers in that curly hair, Jack drew him closer. “I do have a room pretty close by.”

“Excellent.” Sherlock leaned up and kissed him, nearly sliding into Jack’s lap.

Chuckling and relaxing, Jack helped him to his feet. “Come on. Not here.”

In a few minutes they were across the street and Jack was letting them into his hotel room. It was nearly bare, save an overnight bag on top of the dresser. Sherlock kicked the door closed and leaned in to kiss him again. Clearly once he made up his mind, he made up his mind.

Jack lay him back in the bed, kissing him slowly as he unbuttoned his shirt. Sherlock impatiently pushed at his coat and bracers. Jack slipped the coat off and tossed it on the chair, but he kept handling Sherlock’s clothes with maddening patience.

“You’re better than this,” grumbled Sherlock, fumbling with Jack’s buttons.

“Oh you’ve no idea what I’m capable of,” said Jack, with perhaps just a hint of threat.

Sherlock growled and flipped them over. Jack let him, smiling up at the younger man, getting his shirt off and trousers down nearly without him realizing what was happening. As soon as Jack’s chest was exposed, Sherlock leaned in and licked a stripe up his breastbone.

Moaning softly, Jack grabbed the lube he’d fished out of his coat pocket and opened it, sliding a finger down Sherlock’s arse. He moaned and spread his legs wider, rutting his cock against Jacks.

He was pretty, Jack had to admit. Thin, but strong. He watched his face as he fingered him open. The pale eyes were blown nearly black with lust, his mouth parted as he panted, rocking back on Jack’s fingers. Sherlock clearly knew what he was doing. Smiling, Jack took them both in hand and stroked them together.

Sherlock moaned deeply and dropped his head, the dark curls shaking. In the light he could his hair was very dark brown, not black like he’d first assumed. Jack added a second finger and he gasped, thrusting back harder, almost as if he wanted Jack’s whole hand.

Letting go of their cocks, Jack cupped his cheek again and pulled him in for a kiss. Sherlock was a calculating kisser, as if every swipe of his tongue and movement of his lips was planned for maximum effect. Again, Jack had the thought that if he was another man, he’d be fooled. He broke the kiss and looked into Sherlock’s eyes. “Hey. You don’t have to play that game with me. Tell me what you want.”

For a moment vulnerability crossed his face and he bit his lip. “Fuck me,” he said quietly. “Hard.”

Jack rolled them over so Sherlock was underneath him. He withdrew his fingers and reached for a condom. “You want bruises,” he said softly. The young man’s skin was pale. “Everyone always treats you with kid gloves. But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Sherlock’s eye went a little wider and he shook his head. He rocked his hips up, seeking contact. Jack rolled the condom down and slicked himself. He reached up and took a handful of curls, yanking Sherlock’s head back and to the side as his other hand lifted a thigh. Still watching his face he thrust forward.

The detective moaned, hands scrabbling at Jack’s back and sides. Jack leaned in and sucked a hickey into his shoulder, feeling him shudder underneath him. Raising his head, Jack grabbed his arms and slid his hands up them. He paused on one and raised his hand to look at Sherlock’s skin. Most wouldn’t notice the faded marks, but again, this was him. “So that’s why you want the pain,” said Jack quietly, pinning his hands above his head with one hand. 

Sherlock looked a bit scared, but it was doing nothing to flag his erection. “I am sober. Clean,” he said quietly, his earlier bravado gone.

Jack leaned in and kissed him gently. “I know. I can see that. And since you can’t have the drugs you want pain.”

Licking his lips, Sherlock rocked his hips up. “Please.”

Kissing him again, Jack thrust hard, just holding his wrists. He took Sherlock’s erection in hand, giving it expert strokes. He might think he wanted pain, but what he really needed was someone to simply _be_ for him. And Jack couldn’t do that, not longer than tonight. With luck he’d find that person.

Sherlock’s eyes fell closed under Jack’s hands. Jack watched him, seeing him finally start to relax and give in to his steady strokes. With a shift of his hips, Sherlock’s head tossed and he moaned, voice somehow going even deeper. Jack leaned in to kiss him yet again, moving faster. He could feel the young man’s pulse under his hand.

“Jack,” Sherlock breathed his name and came, shuddering. Jack drove in a few more times, being careful with the body underneath him (but not too careful). He followed him over with a moan of his own.

When Jack’s eyes opened again, Sherlock was watching him. Studying him. Jack smiled and carefully pulled out, binning the condom. “You can stay the night, if you want.” He moved to get a rag to clean up Sherlock.

“I think it’s best if I don’t,” said Sherlock, lying there still panting as if trying to will himself to go collect his clothes.

Jack chuckled and came back to wipe him up. “If you insist.” Without preamble, Jack picked up his arm and kissed the faded marks. Sherlock’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t jerk away.

“You’ll find the right person one of these days,” said Jack as he let go.

“No such thing,” scoffed Sherlock, finally rolling over to grab his clothes.

Jack was content to sit on the edge of the bed, still stark naked. He shrugged. “I’ve been around long enough to see that the right people come into your lives just when you need them.”

“Your lives?” Sherlock muttered, buttoning his shirt. “You talk as if you aren’t human.”

Shrugging again, Jack leaned back on his hands. “I think we’re both something pretty unique in the universe, Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock’s penetrating gaze turned him again, the effect somewhat dimmed by the fact that he was standing in a shirt and pants. “I think you may be right, Captain Harkness.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutley because of the photo of [Benedict Cumberbatch and John Barrowman](http://merindab.tumblr.com/post/92951403999/forever-ponds-benedict-cumberbatch-john) at San Diego Comic Con today.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
